


all is divine in desire

by americandy



Series: fear like you [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, M/M, Marijuana, because kit harington is too pretty, nonspecific underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americandy/pseuds/americandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this started out with some direction but it turned into an exploration of memories robb and jon have of growing up and falling in love. modern au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all is divine in desire

love is a mess that robb finds himself in the middle of, one he doesn’t want to stop making. when he feels jon’s pulse soft and steady in his neck, when they sleep pressed together, sometimes he loses track of the differences between his own heartbeat and his brother’s. 

the first time he and jon kissed, jon was so nervous — robb was too, but he was strong for the both of them — that his heart was racing. he went pale except for the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and robb wishes he had had a camera on that particular day, at that moment, because there’s never been anything more beautiful. jon had fluttered his eyes closed and opened his mouth with a slight sigh as robb’s lips covered his, a white flag waving over the battlefield of pretending like they weren’t always going to end up like that.

he does honestly think that’s the best thing his eyes will ever see, until he and jon can’t stop at kisses anymore, and they want more of each other. until they are curious about asking more of each other, not in words but in wordless gestures, robb sliding a hand down jon’s chest, jon falling back on a bed that isn’t his so robb can come slide on top of him, thighs parting thighs. 

when he’s sitting on his heels, leaned back on them, looking down jon, with a chest like a statue of some youth michaelangelo would have loved, and a mouth he can’t even look at during family gatherings — in normal situations — now slick and pouty and pink because of the things he’s been doing to it, he knows he was wrong. 

jon feels pretty wonderful too, most of the time, especially when he has to keep himself from tipping his head up to look down at robb where is, laying between jon’s legs, propped up on his elbows, licking and kissing and sucking his cock. the sight itself is enough for jon, sometimes. it reminds him of the way they used to eat watermelon on warm summer days when they were little, and he thinks he might be going to hell for all of this. 

jon and robb both question why they want this, how could they not? robb is supposed to make mummy and daddy proud, go off and marry some little blond thing who can be a good mother and life partner so he can continue the familial lineage with another robust baby boy. he’s finding it hard to play the field when he has jon right under the tips of his fingers, looking up at him with eyes that are gleaming and dark, eyes he can read like his own name.

as for jon, he’s supposed to be the one who doesn’t matter. the charity case, out of wedlock born-bastard, only taking up the smallest amount of space in cate and nedd’s home.

in a house as big as the one they have (it’s more of an estate, really) it’s not hard to find a room that can hold a secret or two or three. first jon is alone, telling paintings and books in cases that he can’t feel that way; that he shouldn’t dream about the things he does. then robb finds him, and if walls could talk, they wouldn’t stop going on about everything they’ve seen… talks that turn into discussions about fear and love, words that aren’t meant for brothers to say to each other, a first kiss followed by countless others.

jon imagines that when they’re both dead and gone, people will be able to feel what went on in that house. those rooms that held the first throes of their relationship: the library in the east wing where robb read poetry to jon in front of a roaring fire on a cold and snowy night. robb wasn’t usually one for language, but in old john keats volumes he started to find some of the words that could tell jon how he felt. he remembers the way jon’s eyes looked with the glow of the fire and the way he seemed to drift as robb read on. his own draught of sunshine in the middle of winter.

there was the gazebo in the middle of the gardens where robb gave jon his first cigarette. he smokes now, buys his own, in the middle of an addiction. robb questions if this is a metaphor for his presence in jon’s life, if he is a poison that works slow and insidious, a carcinogen like the hundreds he is responsible for jon ingesting. those thoughts dissipate like smoke in the wind when they’re in the gazebo again, and jon comes up behind robb where he’s smoking against the frame of the screen door and runs his palm down robb’s back and around the side of his hip, finding the hem of his shirt so he can feel the warm skin underneath. that is when he decides there is nothing one-sided about this, they are both addicted.

the guest bedroom on the second floor in the west wing doesn’t become a part of their story until cate and edd leave for maui. they ask sansa to babysit because they need to have a boy’s night out, make like they’ve left for the night and then sneak back in through a basement window jon had unlocked. they sneak up to the big bedroom with wine and weed and a glass pipe that’s black and grey that robb just might have bought with jon’s features in mind. the bedroom is done up to look like the rooms cate stayed in in paris when she was younger, with cream colored walls and white lace curtains hung on wrought iron bars and a big bed with an overstuffed comforter and a few chenille blankets. it was very feminine, beautiful, entirely cate’s. for how much she hated jon, they had an aesthetic in common. there was something sweeter about kissing robb in a room that spoke of his mother in every detail, it felt kind of like she knew and couldn’t do a single thing about it.

they lit the tahitian vanilla candles that peppered the room, opened the windows, and got stoned to the gills. robb taught jon to shotgun when they were younger and it never became less fun. he took a hit and tapped his lips. jon jumped into action, pressing up close against robb, his fingers creeping under his shirt out of reflex and a stoned one-track-mind more than anything. he brushed own lips feather light against robb’s to let him know he was ready, and robb’s hand found his jaw, and then he began to slowly exhale. they’ve done it enough that robb knows just the speed to go at so jon can breathe it all in. they used to make excuses about conserving weed but now they don’t bother.

that night had been perfect. the buzz that a liquor like wine creates — warmth licking up your neck from the center of your chest — combined with the way weed magnifies every sensation had them feeling like overstimulated puppies, pawing and biting and mouthing at each other under the covers until hunger struck. they called for a pizza to be delivered to the gate and cleaned themselves up.

after jon pulled on baggy grey sweatpants, robb decided to catalog every new mark he’d left. a purple and red bruise on the crux of his neck and shoulder that had a little twin a few inches down, the half-moon indentations where he’d playfully dug his nails into the skin below jon’s belly button, watching him bite his lip and let out a gasp that bloomed into a smile. they decided it was more prudent for the evidence all over jon to be covered, so he got the sweatshirt. all robb had was a bruise smaller than jon’s just under his ear… he’d said something about robb’s jaw and cutting glass as he worked at it, his hand on robb’s cock, not trying to make him come yet, more just because of the fact that he can.

after getting barely dressed, just enough to avoid obvious vulgarity, they’d slipped out of the window they’d come through and ran hand in hand, dizzy and drunk with bare feet through wet grass and the gardens. in the haze of feeling, jon is reminded of childhood. the way they laugh and slip, the way robb play-falls heavy on top of him and kisses him quick and easy before popping up again, saying something about how the pizza will leave and it’ll be all jon’s fault… it feels like they’re still children and robb has a hold of jon’s fist and is smacking it against his ribs, asking him why he’s hitting himself.

It’s then that he realizes just how peculiar their relationship is. there’s no need for an explanation of the scars of his youth, robb was either the reason behind them or right by his side as a nanny made him feel all better. he knows the experiences that have shaped robb into the man he is today because he was there for them, or robb had told him in hushed tones after slipping into his room once cate and edd retired. the foundation their relationship is constructed on goes deep under the surface, brick made infallible by roots that penetrate from deeper than either of them can imagine.

jon loves that night and that room because that is where he learned what he is made of, what he and robb both are made of. what they have had and what he hopes they will have, if a thousand different things don’t separate them. if the family doesn’t find out, if they can move somewhere where no one knows the last name stark, if they can get away with only needing each other. their relationship is so unique, and so singular, bonded not only by love but blood. they’ve only ever been meant for each other. they aren’t a religious brood but if there is a god, robb is sure he showed up in the form of edd’s wandering eye.

sometimes they ponder what would happen if the family found out, if they should overhear a call or catch robb and jon off-guard. no matter how it ends, in that scenario, they put themselves together, either exiled and out of the will or begrudgingly accepted in the hopes of keeping up appearances. with every choice robb makes, he considers jon in his plans, as a part of his plans, as the main plan. whatever he ends up doing, he thinks he’ll make it through as long as jon’s there to make it with him.


End file.
